One Hundred Percent Sure
by elisethewritingbeast
Summary: Soulmate Modern AU Enemies/Friends to Lovers (Basically, Emma was in extreme denial about her feelings.) Based on the prompt: "I found out we're supposed to be soulmates but how is it you? I hate you" Rated for language


There were two things in this world that Emma Swan was one hundred percent sure about. The first, that her soulmate certainly didn't exist. The second? That she hated Killian Jones with her entire being.

Mary Margaret had met her brother David during their freshman year at college. It was love at first sight, and she could say that, even being the cynic that she was, because she was the only other person there to witness it. It was months later that Mary Margaret came running into her dorm to tell her that they were _soulmates_. They both shared the same image on their upper right thighs—a little seven pointed star.

And that was that. They were already so deeply in love when they found out, it was just icing on the cake for them. A bright red cherry on top of their already perfect relationship. It almost made her mad. Almost. But she loved David and now Mary Margaret far too much to be truly upset at this new development. So she decided that she was happy for them.

That was years ago, and her brother and best friend had since married and settled down in a little apartment in the upper east side. Her brother was a cop now, Mary Margaret a teacher at the closest elementary school. But Emma still lived in her crappy right-out-of-college apartment, still trying to figure out if being a bail bondsperson was what she was really supposed to be doing.

The only thing that felt right was her little friend group, her, David, Mary Margaret, Ruby, Belle, and Robin. They met once a week for a dinner in or a night out at the bar or a movie, what they did didn't really matter. What mattered, was that they always did _something_.

Their traditions were thrown when David decided to bring a pal from work, one with a smirk and over dramatic eyebrows and a dumb accent and a head bigger than the state of New York. She knew she disliked Killian Jones from the moment he stepped into their bar that night, all cocky and ready to throw a rift in her perfect little gang.

Everyone _loved _him, which only made Emma hate him more. She hated the way he called her 'Swan' or 'love.' She hated how he made Ruby and every other girl in the bar swoon and drool at the same time. She hated the way his eyes drank her in, all blue and deep and annoying.

But despite her decided hatred of him, he still became a regular in their weekly activities. Every dinner at David and Mary Margaret's, every lunch at their usual diner, every movie marathon, he was there. Sitting next to her, more often than not.

"Y'know, Dave, I think you could use a vacation. You're starting to look rather old," Killian chuckled.

"Hey!" David smacked him on the arm.

"Yeah, he doesn't look a day over forty," Emma joked, which won her a glare from her brother.

"Oh stop it you two, or you're really going to age him," Mary Margaret admonished, ever the mother.

"Are we ready to eat yet? I'm starving," Ruby groaned.

"Always with the drama, Ruby," Robin teased.

"I had an early lunch at the library," Belle added. "Would you like me to set the table, Mary Margaret?"

"You're such a darling, Belle. I'd love some help. Emma, why don't you grab the drinks,"

Emma grumbled at the task, as it forced her to get off the couch, but she complied, heading for the fridge. She grabbed the red wine from the door, and went to take the glasses from the cabinet. Before she could reach them, Killian was grabbing them for her. She rolled her eyes automatically at the gesture. He was always _too _helpful. She hated that, too.

She didn't say anything, just went to pour the wine into each glass that he'd gotten for her. When she was done, she moved to take two glasses to place on the table, but of course he was still in her way, and far closer than she'd anticipated. And wine spilled all over his shirt.

"Shit, shit, shit, I'm so sorry, Killian," she panicked, needless to say.

"It's fine, love, no need to cry over a bit of spilt wine," he winked, he fucking _winked_.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret exclaimed, a little exasperated, but not entirely surprised. Emma wasn't always the most coordinated person. She rushed over, assessing the damage. "Killian, go get cleaned up in the bathroom, you can borrow one of David's shirts," she told him. What a teacher, really.

He obeyed immediately, and Emma just watched him go feeling like a complete idiot. Mary Margaret looked to Emma now, and she met her gaze feeling very guilty. It was just a little spilled wine, like he'd said, but Emma didn't exactly love when she messed up. Blame it on all those years of foster care before she was adopted by Ruth, I guess. When a broken glass or a stained rug called for a lot of yelling and sometimes, if she was at one of the worse houses (which was often), a beating.

"It's fine, dear. I promise. I'll clean this up, you go get Killian one of David's shirts," Mary Margaret said, knowing her too well.

Emma nodded, and left to find Killian a shirt in her and David's room. She knocked on the bathroom door, the shirt in hand, and was instructed to enter. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it wasn't shirtless Killian. It should've been, because of course he would take it off, but still. She tried not to look, and tried not to let her jaw drop at his—dare she say it—abs. Killian was a lot more _fit _than she expected.

"See something you like, love?" Killian looked at her with those eyes, the ones that made most women swoon or cry or whatever, and she didn't feel anything. Really, she didn't. She swore she didn't.

Her eyes caught on something, something on his lower right abdomen. "Your soulmark," she almost choked on the words.

"Aye, what about it?" His eyebrows raised.

"It, um, it looks like a swan," but what she didn't say, was that it looked like _hers _. Sure, it wasn't really a swan, but it had the curved neck and a sort of body, and one could say that it was kind of a minimalistic swan. It was how she picked her last name.

"Really?" He looked down at it, thoughtful. "I've always thought it looked like a hook. You know, like the pirate?" He smirked, of course, with his signature raised eyebrow and a glint in his eye.

"Uh, here," she shoved the shirt towards him and turned on her heel and tried not to run out of the bathroom.

She hid in the hallway, trying to steady her breath and regain control of her thoughts. He was her soulmate. Was that possible? It wasn't. How could it be, when she hated so much? Unless…

She shook her head at her stupidity and rejoined her friends who were now seated around the table, sipping on their drinks and apparently waiting for the two of them before they started to eat.

She didn't look up when Killian came back, and couldn't look at him for the rest of the evening. She remained mostly silent for the duration of the meal, in fact. No one seemed to notice, really, except maybe for Mary Margaret and David, but they knew she got into moods every once in a while and always gave her the time and distance she needed to deal with whatever was going on.

She didn't tell her brother and her best friend until the next day, after lying in bed the night before trying to figure out how the hell she was supposed to be soulmates with Killian Fucking Jones. Really. But she knew she had to talk to them, so she did.

"I need to talk to you guys," she told them, and they looked at each other for a moment, concerned, before returning their attention back to Emma.

"We're here for you, Emma. Always," David told her, the supportive big brother that he was.

"I know, I know, I just." She hesitated, and shook off that part of her that told her to isolate herself. If there was anything she'd learned since she joined David's family, it was that nothing could be solved by putting her walls up, even though that was her very first instinct. "Yesterday, when I was giving Killian that clean shirt, I...saw something." David shifted uncomfortably, but Emma continued. "His soulmark."

Mary Margaret's eyes widened, figuring it out right away. David wasn't as quick. "It was the same as mine," she finished, and realization dawned on his face.

"That's why you were so quiet during dinner," he mumbled.

"I'm guessing that you didn't tell him, then?" Mary Margaret asked.

"I don't really know how," she admitted. "And I don't know how it's even possible. I mean, I don't even _like _him, like as a friend. He's always on my nerves. I pretty much hate him. How can my soulmate be someone I hate?" She rambled.

Mary Margaret smiled knowingly. "Do you really hate him, Emma? Are you sure it's not...something else?" She asked. "What do you hate about him?" It sounded like a challenge.

Emma thought for a moment or two, trying to figure out her fuck-storm of emotions. "He's so cocky and flirty, and he's got that _smirk _and all those innuendos and how he's always got girls fawning over him and…" it was Emma's turn for an epiphany. "Oh," was all she could get out.

"Well, they do say that there's a fine line between love and hate," David said, and Emma wanted to smack him. Instead, the three of them sat in silence for a few minutes while Emma reevaluated her life.

"I have to tell him, don't I?" David and Mary Margaret nodded, and she groaned. She had no idea how the hell she was going to do this. "Well, I guess I should get this over with then, huh?"

She was suddenly glad for the one time they'd had pizza at Killian's, because she actually knew how to get to his place. She stood in front of his door for far longer than she cared to admit, but she did actually end up knocking, which was more than she expected from herself.

He swung open the door seconds later, and his eyebrows shot up at her sudden appearance. "Swan?" He looked around, as if expecting to see someone else there with her. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes—I mean no, no. Look, can I come in? We need to talk," she felt stupider by the second.

"I've found when a women says that, I'm rarely in for a pleasant conversation," he said, but smiled as he opened the door wider for her.

She looked around his apartment, taking it in as she had the first time she'd been there. Not a lot of personal items, no photos, it screamed 'orphan' and Emma felt like they understood each other, even if she thought she'd hated him before.

"Swan?" He repeated, concerned. She faced him, drawing a complete blank on all the things she'd rehearsed in the cab ride over.

"Let me just," she took a breath, "show you."

She pulled up the edge of her shirt, revealing the soulmark that rested on her lower right abdomen. It was all she could do to watch him now, watch him as his eyes widened and his breathing stopped and he completely froze, not a word from his mouth. It was so rare to see Killian Jones speechless.

Gone was the bravado and the smirks and the excessive flirting—the look on his face, so vulnerable, so _hopeful_, it made her heart clench. She really didn't hate him at all, did she? God, she was so completely blind.

"Emma," he murmured, and he sounded completely wrecked, and had he ever said her actual name before? She wasn't sure. But she was sure that she wanted him to say it again.

"Killian," she said, and she liked the way his name tasted on her tongue; she'd never noticed its flavor before—but then again, she didn't notice a lot of things before, did she?

She blinked and she was in his arms, strong and comforting around her. She felt safe there, and thought that perhaps he, too, felt that way. "It's you," he whispered in her hair. "It's always been you."

"I have a soulmate," she said to herself, as if it needed to be uttered out loud for her to believe it.

"You doubted that, did you?" He wondered, separating just far enough from her to look at her face. "That's ridiculous, Swan," he told her, rolling his eyes. She shrugged. "You are the most deserving person I've ever had the absolute pleasure of meeting. Of course you have a soulmate. I can only hope that I deserve you…" he trailed off, and she felt uneasy at his tone.

"Killian, you're more than enough for the likes of me," she shook her head. "You're annoyingly perfect, actually." He opened his mouth to say something, but she held up a finger. "All I need is someone who won't...give up on me. I've had too much of that in my life. But I don't think you would," her faith in him astounded both of them.

"No, I would never," he said honestly. "I don't intend to let you down, Emma."

"Thank you, Killian," she breathed.

She thought that the moment couldn't get any more perfect, but then their lips met, and she was sure that no one was allowed to ever be that happy.

––

There were two things that Emma Swan was one hundred percent sure about. The first was that she definitely had a soulmate. The second? She loved Killian Jones with her entire being.


End file.
